


The Blind Date

by jeeno2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The best way to get over a guy is to go out with a new one,” Margaery said pointedly two nights ago, over drinks at the pub.   “So! That’s what you’re going to do.”  </p><p>But Sansa had her doubts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy and pointless little Jon x Sansa AU for the incomparable aliceofalonso, to take her mind off the nastiness of the bar for a time. You’re gonna crush it, dear. There’s not a doubt in my mind. 
> 
> I think this will have three parts. But we'll see. ;)

As Sansa walks out the door of her apartment she curses under her breath, wishing for the hundredth time today that she hadn’t let Margaery talk her into this.

She knows why Marg suggested it, of course.  She’s been moping about for weeks now, ever since her horrific breakup with Joff, even though the breakup was long overdue, and even though she knows full well, on some level at least, that she’s much better off without him. 

Sansa knows she must be annoying just about everyone by now.  And by week four Sansa’s sullenness was beginning to get on even her usually unflappable best friend’s nerves.

“The best way to get over a guy is to go out with a new one,” Margaery said pointedly two nights ago, over drinks at the pub.   “So! That’s what you’re going to do.”

It was clear Margaery believed her theory a sound one.  But Sansa was dubious, and she said as much.

“That’s not…. that’s not how it works,” she’d insisted.

But Sansa was no match for Marg’s iron will.  She relented after only a few days of feeble protest, deciding it was just easier to go along with it and let Marg set her up with someone.  The path of least resistance, as it were.

But now that she’s leaving her apartment to go meet this guy Sansa is beside herself with nerves and irritation.   She hasn’t been with anyone but Joffrey since college. And even though he’d been a complete asshole, and their relationship kind of sucked, it was by far the longest relationship she’s had in years.

Sansa just can’t see how a blind date with a stranger can possibly help things.

* * *

 

The guy’s apartment is only a few subway stops away from her.  That’s actually kind of a bad thing, him living so close, Sansa muses when the train comes to a lurching stop after only ten minutes.  She still doesn’t know what the hell she’s even going to _say_ to the guy.  

When she steps off the train, she glances down at the piece of paper she fished out of her pocket to make sure she’s got the correct address.  She looks up at the brownstones lining the street, biting her bottom lip.  After a short search she finds the one marked 1011 ½.  John’s apartment building.

 _Here goes nothing_ , Sansa says to herself, trying not to sigh out loud.  She climbs the steps to the building slowly.  She shifts the bottle of wine she brought along from one hand to the other and awkwardly adjusts the strap of her purse.

She wonders, as she knocks on the door, just how long she has to stay before she can leave without seeming rude.  She’s never done something like this before.  She doesn’t really know the rules.

The door opens after her second knock.

“Um… hi there,” she says, staring at the guy’s shoes.  “I’m –  oh.  Oh my _god_.”

When she sees who’s standing on the other side of the door Sansa nearly swallows her gum.

Until this moment, Sansa’d had only four pieces of information about her date for this evening.  First was that he originally wanted to get a PhD in English but dropped out after one year.  Second was that he was now a second year law student at NYU. Third, he went to the same high school Marg did way up in upstate New York.  

And fourth, that his name was John…. something.  Margaery hadn’t even bothered to tell Sansa his last name.

What Margaery had neglected – quite deliberately, of course – to tell her was that this _John_ fellow was, in fact, Jon _Snow.  S_ omeone Marg originally introduced Sansa to during Orientation Week their first year of college.  And the guy Sansa dated for over a year before she freaked out and dumped him for no good reason at her sorority’s winter formal.  

Margaery _also_ neglected to tell Sansa that Jon Snow – no longer 19 years old, gangly and awkward – is now in his mid-20s, just like she is, with clear skin and soulful eyes, and that he’s much broader through the shoulders than he ever was in college. She also didn’t tell Sansa that Jon apparently enjoys wearing untucked button down shirts that accentuate the wiry muscles of his arms and chest, and that he also likes to wear tight jeans that fit him perfectly. 

Margaery also failed to mention that Jon Snow has traded in that ridiculous man bun he used to wear in college for a head full of gorgeous, perfectly messy brown hair that curls in all the right places, and looks like he must have spent hours on it in a salon.

When he smiles, Sansa notices right away, it lights up his eyes so much they’re all you can see.  That’s something new, too.

“Um,” Sansa says stupidly.  She’d practiced up a few things to say to her blind date during her short subway ride, but in the shock of seeing Jon Snow again she’s forgotten every single one of them.

 _Do I pretend I don’t recognize him?,_ she wonders, panicking. _Do I pretend I knocked on the wrong door?_

 _“_ Sansa,” Jon says, clear as a bell, scattering her frantic thoughts like dust on the wind.  "Um.  Yeah…  Come… come in?”

Jon reaches out and takes the bottle of wine she’s carrying. He smiles at her, so warmly, and gestures for her to join him inside.

“Welcome to my place, Sansa,” he says to her, his smile faltering just a little. Whatever he’s cooking smells delicious. Sansa’s stomach growls, loudly, and she cringes inwardly in embarrassment.

If Jon is at all surprised that his blind date is, in fact, Sansa Stark, he shows no sign of it.  

“You know, I was really happy when Margaery suggested this,” Jon admits quietly, setting the bottle of wine down on his dining room table. “She made the girl she was setting me up with sound… well. She made you sound incredible.” He chuckles a little, and Sansa thinks she sees a bit of color creep onto his cheeks.

“Um,” Sansa says again.  She looks around his apartment just to avoid looking at him.  She takes in the art on his walls ( _does he still paint?_ ) and books on his shelves ( _a law student, huh_ )?

In spite of herself Sansa finds herself wondering what Jon Snow, the boy whose heart she carelessly broke five years ago, has been up to since she last saw him.

Jon clears his throat awkwardly, interrupting her thoughts.  

“You know, Sansa,” he begins, coughing a little into his hand.  "I hope this doesn’t sound, creepy… or, um. Awkward.“  Jon trails off, and then tugs tellingly on his ear in a way that reminds Sansa so irresistibly of what he was like when they were younger it makes her heart do a strange little unexpected flip in her chest.  

He looks her right in the eye before continuing.  

 _I forgot how lovely his eyes are_ , Sansa thinks weakly.

“But all the same, Sansa, I’m… I’m, well.  I’m just so happy to see you again.”

She smiles back at him, wondering what happens next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a tumblr prompt from ricewitfries: "Catching the other before they fall."

“Do you… um.  Need any help, Jon?”  

Sansa’s face is still horribly flushed from the awkwardness of this whole situation, and she can’t seem to stop her hands from shaking.  

Sansa also can’t cook anything that doesn’t come out of a box, something that‘s always embarrassed her.  But she decided ten minutes ago that she was not, in fact, going to make a run for the door, nor pretend all of this had been a terrible misunderstanding.  Might as well make herself useful instead of just standing around in Jon’s living room, looking at the books on his shelves in an anxious stupor as her ex-boyfriend cooks for her.

But Jon shoots her down.  "No,“ he says warmly, shooing her gently from the room and back into his living room.  "Just relax.  I’ve got it all under control.”

And so Sansa waits, her stomach a mass of knots, while he finishes up.  She swirls the wine inside her glass around and around, watching the red fluid swish around inside the glass bowl, grateful that if nothing else she at least has something to do with her hands.

After a few minutes of this Sansa’s phone buzzes with a text.  She closes her eyes and groans, knowing who it’s from before even digging the phone from her purse.

 _Having fun?_ Marg asks.  Sansa can hear the smirk in her friend’s voice from across town.

Sansa takes a deep breath through her nose and counts to ten before replying, willing herself not to say something she’ll regret later.

 _I’m going to fucking_ murder _you_ , she eventually texts back.

 _You love me,_ Margaery corrects immediately.

Sansa shuts her phone off and chucks it back into her bag.

“You’ll pay for this, Tyrell,” Sansa mutters under her breath, wondering just how in the hell she’s going to survive spending an entire evening with Jon Snow.

* * *

 

If Jon finds the situation awkward he doesn’t show it.

Well, that’s not entirely true.  Once – as he serves her the beef stroganoff he’s been preparing since before she arrived – his right hand trembles.  Just a little. If she didn’t know Jon as well as she did (or at least, if she hadn’t known him really well once upon a time) she probably wouldn’t have even noticed that telltale sign of his nervousness.

But a moment later Jon recovers his poise and his hand stills.  He sits across the table from Sansa and begins talking to her as if they were, in fact, meeting each other for the very first time.

“So,” Jon begins, smiling at her in that shy, guileless way of his that always made her want to jump into his arms and pepper his neck with kisses. “Margaery tells me you work for the Westerosi Herald?”

Thrown by the ease with which he’s making small talk, Sansa licks her lips and swallows hard.

“Um,” she says.  She cringes again, realizing that’s probably the tenth time she’s said _um_ since getting here an hour ago.  She grabs for her glass of wine and swallows a mouthful of shiraz to steel her nerves before answering.

“Yeah.  I do.  I… um.  I’m a copy editor.  I oversee the international section of the paper and review all articles that come in from field reporters.”

“Oh.  I see,” Jon says, chewing his food thoughtfully and nodding at her like what she’d just said to him was actually interesting.  "That’s… well.  That’s pretty cool, Sansa.  I read just about everything I can get my hands on about the Middle East these days, and, well…“ He trails off, shrugging.  

This surprises her.  "You do?” The Jon she knew in college was a bit of a free spirit.  Someone who’d prefer a backpacking trip or roughing it out in the wild to reading just about anything at all.  

“Yes, I do,” he insists.  He looks her right in the eye.  For the first time since she arrived this evening Sansa thinks she sees desperation in his expression.  It makes her stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot.  "I’ve changed a lot since you knew me, Sansa.“  His voice is soft, pleading.  It tears at her heart.

Not knowing what to say to that Sansa drops her gaze and swirls her pasta around on her plate with her fork.  

 _There was nothing about you that needed changing_ , _Jon,_ she thinks to herself as she takes another large swallow of wine.   _You were always there to catch me when I fell._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final part of this bit of fluff. Thanks so much for reading. 
> 
> If you'd like to find me on tumblr I'm there as jeeno2. ;)

“I like your place,” Sansa says as she continues to poke at her dinner.  She says it more to break the awkward pauses that kept cropping up in their conversation than for any other reason, but it’s no less true for that.  

Jon’s apartment is just a small one-bedroom on the second floor of an aging building.  But it suits him somehow.  In the years since she broke his heart Sansa tried not to think about Jon Snow often.  Thinking of him only made her heart ache and brought on nearly unbearable guilt.  But when she _did_ think about Jon – when she was drunk, for example; or unhappy about something else – she’d imagine him in an artsy, small apartment like this one in an interesting part of town, with books on his shelves and framed art on the walls.

Jon looks across the table at her at her words.  The right side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile.  The look in his eyes makes Sansa think he doesn’t believe she’s telling him the truth.  

“Thank you, Sansa,” he says all the same, sounding so earnest.  Then he’s smiling at her in a shy, terribly _Jon_  sort of way that she hasn’t let her think about in years.

“Um,“ Sansa says, stupidly, for the thousandth time that evening, forcing herself to focus on her breathing and on her purse on the floor by her feet and on the uneaten food on her plate.  On anything and everything but Jon’s beautiful smile.  "You’re welcome, Jon.  But it’s true.”

His smile broadens.  He shrugs.  "Well, I’m glad you like my apartment.“  He nods at her plate.  "But… um.  Aren’t you… aren’t you hungry at all?”  He swallows audibly.  "I used a really good recipe.  And… well.“  He trails off and chuckles shyly, color beginning to creep into his cheeks.  "My law school friends call it my ‘wooing dish.’”

Sansa laughs, unable to help herself.  "You have a _wooing_ dish?“  The thought of Jon having a specific meal he makes to impress girls both amuses the hell out of her and sets her heart to racing.  

 _He made his_ wooing _dish for me._

“That’s… that’s actually really weird, Jon.”

“Sure it is,” he agrees.  "But could you at least _try_ it?  It takes forever to make.“  Again with the smile.

“It does smell delicious,” Sansa admits.  Shrugging, she picks up her fork and pops a bite into her mouth.    

Before the end of the evening they each have two helpings.

* * *

 

“Do you like law school?” Sansa asks as they stand next to each other in front of Jon’s kitchen sink, rubber gloves up to their elbows protecting them from the hot sudsy water.

“Not really,” Jon admits.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jon says, scrubbing at a dish.  "No one likes law school.  It’s what we hopefully get to do with our degrees afterwards that keeps us going.“  He looks at her.  "And, uh… I have a job I’m really excited about this summer.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,”  Jon says.  "I’ll be working at the EPA.  Environmental Protection Agency,” he adds quickly.  “If I’m lucky, they’ll let me help with some impact litigation they’ve been working on for the past few years even though I only just finished my 2L year.“

Jon continues to tell her about his summer position, becoming more and more animated with each passing moment.  Sansa stops washing dishes so she can listen more attentively.   So she can focus on the way his lips move as he talks, the way his broad shoulders shake as he laughs.

* * *

 

Hours later – long after the dishes are washed and dried and put away; after the leftovers are packaged up, and the last glass of wine shared between them – Sansa leans Jon up against the island in his kitchen, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses him.

There are so many things she wants to say right now.  She wants to apologize for hurting him when they were in college.  She wants to explain _why_ she’d left him at that party, wanted to explain that she used to be shit at relationships and scared to death of commitment.  That those things are true of her even now.

But in this moment, the right words fail her.  And she refuses to let the ghosts of her past mistakes frighten her away from what might be a second chance at something wonderful.

They’d kissed many times in college; but this kiss is different.  The moment her lips touched his he wasted no time, grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing  her back with fervor, pulling her tight against his body.  His hands come to rest on her waist while her fingers creep down, and down, her hands exploring the firm planes of his chest that he certainly did not have back in college through his thin cotton shirt.  

A moment later Jon’s tongue darts out and he licks at her bottom lip, sucking on it gently.  Sansa moans involuntarily into his mouth, and she grabs on to his shoulders so she can stay upright.

After what feels like a very long time Jon pulls away from her, breathing heavily.  

He rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

"I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he says quietly, his words little puffs of air against her mouth.  "I didn’t think –“

Sansa puts her index finger on his lips to quiet him.  She steels her nerves.

"Can we… try again?” Her words sound far away, like they’re coming from someone else.  

But she must have been the one to say them because his eyes fly open.  He raises an eyebrow at her.  And he smiles.

He threads his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and pulls her even more closely to him, kissing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the nape of her neck as she shudders.

“Well… I think at the very least we should do coffee sometime,” he whispers wetly against her skin.  “You know – after we thank Margaery for setting this up.”

Sansa thinks that sounds like a very good plan indeed.


End file.
